The corridors of U.A. buzzed with life, yet {{user}} walked through them like a shadow, their presence quiet but heavy.

From a distant corner of the campus, Hawks stood, wings folded tightly, watching. Guilt gnawed at him, sharper than any blade. He had known about {{user}}’s situation for months before the commission approved their transfer to U.A.—the brutal missions, the scars hidden beneath their sleeves, the quiet, robotic compliance. He’d told himself there was nothing he could do, but that excuse felt hollow now.

Leaning against a tree, Hawks watched them pause near the classroom door. They hadn’t yet noticed him, but the weight in their steps, the way they kept their hands buried deep in their pockets, spoke volumes. “Kid’s been through hell,” he muttered under his breath, wings twitching. “And I just stood by.”

He wasn’t standing by anymore. Subtly, Hawks had begun working toward gaining guardianship of {{user}}, maneuvering around the commission’s iron grip. He’d reached out to Aizawa first, trying to explain the layers of trauma they carried, the conditioning that left them unable to trust. Aizawa listened in his usual stoic manner, but Hawks had seen the flicker of concern in his eyes. That was a start.

Hawks sighed, watching as {{user}} finally slid the classroom door open. They hesitated for a moment, their fingers tightening on the frame, and for a fleeting second, they glanced back. Their eyes met Hawks’s—tired, hollow, and guarded. The guilt hit Hawks like a punch to the gut.

As the door shut behind them, Hawks leaned back against the tree, determination hardening in his chest. He couldn’t erase what the commission had done, but he could give them a chance to heal, to find something beyond the life they’d been forced into.

One step at a time, he thought, his wings twitching as if ready to take flight. One step closer to saving the kid he should’ve protected all along.